"Two to go," the cheery, gurgling voice said as the Mon Calamari took a place standing next to me. I recognized her as Vifwherl, an experienced Knight. "This one, and then the weapons test next week. They've come a long way, eh?"

"They have," I agreed. "Which one is yours?"

"Junyo Song, a human male," she beamed with pride. "Best duelist in this year, if not quite the equal of that Zeltran girl. Ah… not to denigrate the other students. You have Chion, after all." She turned her left eye to focus on me without bothering to shift her head.

I nodded. "Olana's quite remarkable. I was surprised no one else had offered to train her."

Vifwherl chortled openly, a surprisingly melodious sound from her water-logged larynx. "Very good, Obi-wan. No use playing dumb about it, though. I'm sure she's figured it out."

I creased my brow, making sure to broadcast my confusion. "No humor intended, Vifwherl. I was genuinely under the impression that she couldn't find a sponsor."

This provoked rapid eye and mouth movements indicative of distressed surprise. "At the initiate contests, two years ago, the word went out not to approach Olanna. That you'd have your braid off by the time she was ready and were planning to train her." She rolled her right eye around to match her left. "You weren't aware of this?"

I allowed no further outer emotions to broadcast as I considered this new information, but I quickly replied, "Not only did I not lay claim to her two years ago, until recently I didn't think I'd be training her at all. That would have scuttled her chances at being a Jedi."

Vifwherl nodded. "Almost certainly. An unfortunate misunderstanding, indeed."

Further discussion was precluded as most of the lights were extinguished, leaving the dim flickering of a handful of orbs on posts around the room. We dozen onlookers raised the hoods on our cloaks and folded our arms, taking on the pretense of anonymity this trial required.

From the south end of the room, two Padawans led in the four initiates, who were guided to sit near the wall, facing the semi-circle of seven men and women. None of the adults' heads were covered; only two of the seven wore Jedi robes while the others wore the practical garb of the Corps. These seven adults were teachers at the Academy, and they were now tasked with challenging the initiates as to their suitability to train to become Jedi Knights.

"Junyo Song, approach us," the elderly woman in the middle began. A boy, unremarkable in size or mannerism, stood and warily walked to the central point, equidistant from the adults. I could feel his agitation and nerves as he sat. Each of the initiates had just finished an eighteen-hour meditation session without food or sleep, and the effects were visible.

"Explain the first truth of the Jedi Code," another of the teachers said.

"There is no emotion, only peace," the response was immediate.

"You were not asked for a recitation, initiate. Explain it."

Junyo blanched, just slightly, and took a calming breath. "My clearest, purest connection to the Force comes when I am unburdened. When my mind is clear, unclouded by the weight of feelings or unneeded thoughts, I can act as a channel for the Force."

I nodded approvingly. The boy gave a good answer.

There was no visible reaction from the teachers before a different one of them asked another question. "How will Junyo Song, Jedi, benefit the Order?"

"I am unwaveringly loyal," he began, "and strong in the Force. I will be a Guardian, and fight for the continuation of the Order and the good of the Republic."

"To whom," yet a different teacher asked, "are you 'unwaveringly loyal'?"

Junyo's brows wrinkled, he radiated confusion. I could sense that he thought the question was redundant.

I lost focus on the boy at this point, however, because I suddenly felt the questing touch of another mind. It was orderly and deliberate, spreading out like molasses. And, as it reached me, I recognized the familiar feel of her. Olana broke her solemn expression long enough to glance in my direction with a delighted smile. I could feel the cold lump of fear that she was successfully isolating from her consciousness; it had been a while since I could feel anything this strong from her. The fear lessoned a bit as her recognition of me in among the hooded onlookers gave her a surge of confidence.

"Olana Chion, approach us," were the next words that I actually heard. The shutters came down on her mind, and it felt like being cast from sun into deep shade. She took her place without visible expression.

"Why does a Jedi study the lightsaber?"

I saw a momentary hardening of Olana's gaze when she decided to lie. "It allows her to act with precision, defending herself and disabling threats with calculated minimal force."

"You don't believe that," the female Jedi said. "Give us your real answer. And do not censor yourself again, Initiate, or you will fail this Trial."

Almost a full minute passed in silence, and although I could not sense it, I knew Olana was forming her next words with great care. "That was the reason we are taught. You are correct; I do not believe it. In fact, the lightsaber is clearly used because it is the most emotionally satisfying weapon to wield."

This produced ripples of uncertainty and disapproval in the room; even I was uncertain where she was going with this. "Elaborate," the teacher simply said.

"In combat, Jedi rely on confidence in their abilities in order to stay fully connected to the Force," she explained. "So, in addition to needing a weapon that can be manipulated with both speed and precision, they need one that they can feel a physical connection to. Even if you powered, say, a blaster with an attuned kyber crystal, it wouldn't have the same level of tactile feedback as a saber. It wouldn't give the same rush when you fight with it."

"Has your emotional connection to your weapon aided you in wielding it?" a different teacher asked.

Olana shook her head. "Not really. I've only recently mastered my fear of the lightsaber, and have not yet become emotionally invested in it."

I saw the teachers exchanging glances between themselves, and it led to another awkward silence in the dim room. Finally, yet another teacher spoke. "How will Olana Chion, Jedi, benefit the Order?"

By her quick and confident answer, it was clear she had prepared for this question. "I have an agile mind. I learn new skills and languages quickly; I find it easy to understand the concerns of different species. Olana Chion, Jedi Consular, will be of incalculable value to the Order."

"And if you are not placed as a diplomat?"

"Then I will do what is needed. A Jedi is always alert for ways to serve." This answer, at least, received widespread approval from the minds around me.

"Obi-wan Kenobi is to be your Master," the other Jedi teacher, a younger male, spoke. "You will surely grow under his training. Tell us of a weakness of his, and how you can help him grow as he trains you."

Olana swallowed, and glanced in my direction. "The witnesses are anonymous," the younger Jedi assured her, "and none will repeat what they hear today. Speak the truth."

"He is arrogant," she said, and blushed. "His loyalty isn't to the Order, but to his own understanding of the Force and Galactic politics. He tries to do everything himself, and places his own judgment above anyone else's."

The older Jedi frowned. "Why would you consent to be trained by him, then?"

The initiate shifted subtly in her seated position, and took multiple deep breaths. The silence stretched. "Because he's not wrong," she finally admitted. "His mistrust is appropriate, considering how corrupt and incompetent our institutions have become in dealing with our problems. His arrogance fits, because he has a knowledge of the future that dwarfs any other Seer I've read about, Jedi or Sith." She swallowed again. "He'll teach me how to move and act with conviction. I'll teach him how to rely on others and temper rash actions with sober judgment."

"How can an arrogant Knight learn from his own Padawan? That requires humility," the older Jedi pressed.

Olana nodded. "That is a difficult question. But I have years to find an answer."

R2-D2 was notably absent when I returned to my quarters, and I had a note on my desk comm to call Padme Amidala. She wanted a live call, so I made my way up to the tower's communications room where they kept the two-way holographic equipment.

The translucent image showed the queen in her elaborate makeup, and I felt immediate warmth from her as she saw me. "Obi-wan, thank you for calling. How is Qui-Gon holding up?"

"He's getting better," I greeted her with a smile. "The clean-up is proceeding adequately?"

"Faster than expected, once those auxiliary control units arrived. All of the deactivated battle droids getting back up was certainly a frightening moment, but once they showed they'd follow our orders to assist in repairing and rebuilding, people recognized the benefits."

"Good. You won't be seeing invoices for those units, by the way. Sheev made sure the invoice went directly to the Trade Federation."

"He told me," she nodded. "That's good news; the recovery will be expensive enough as is. But that's not why I called." Her mind was tinged in curiosity and confusion, so I nodded, inviting her to continue. "What is it that you're hoping to find in that private political correspondence?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with this. What correspondence?"

"The records that I gave Artoo," she clarified. "The private letters and missives between Nabooan queens, chancellors, and senators going back twenty years. Much of those were still locked in the archives here; it took royal prerogative to access them."

I let my perplexity show on my face. "Those requests didn't come from me. It's Artoo's own project."

She blinked. "Really? What is he intending to do?"

"He won't tell me," I shrugged.

"Your droid won't tell you what it is he's doing in your name?" her curiosity took on a very slight note of worry, but a much stronger flavor of amusement. "Which of you is the master, again?"

"I find myself asking that question a lot, lately," I admitted. "I may legally own Artoo… and thanks for giving over title when he left your ship, by the way… but you know I don't really see our relationship that way. He's his own person. And I trust him. Don't you?"

The queen hesitated, and I could tell that she found it to be an interesting question. "I… do," she nodded, surprising herself. "All right, I should prepare for my next meeting here. If Artoo decides to fill you in on what he's doing, please let me know. And give my love to Annie and Shmi when you see them."